


Blood and Green Things

by Roaoai



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies)
Genre: Blood Rage, Canon Compliant, Living Trees, Uruk-hai - Freeform, as best I could manage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-28 14:30:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 8,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7644616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roaoai/pseuds/Roaoai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“How can the Uruks breed, Milord? Are there no females?”<br/>Saruman explained that female Elves were not strong enough to survive the process. They tended to fade and wither before reaching the end of the change.<br/>“Then go in stages, Milord. Give the creature time to adjust, so that you may decide how much is needed. She would not need to be a warrior, after all.”<br/>The White Wizard agreed, and thus plans began to form.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

-The Fellowship of the Ring-

It was Grima Wormtounge who started it, she’d decided. He’d seen the Uruk-hai and heard Saruman’s plans for his new race of Perfect Orks.   
“How can the Uruks breed, Milord? Are there no females?”  
Saruman explained that female Elves were not strong enough to survive the process. They tended to fade and wither before reaching the end of the change.  
“Then go in stages, Milord. Give the creature time to adjust, so that you may decide how much is needed. She would not need to be a warrior, after all.”  
The White Wizard agreed, and thus plans began to form.

She could remember her second birth clearly. Her flesh had stopped burning, and her eyes opened. There was a thick film between her and the world of fire she saw. Hands ripped at the membrane, and it broke. Twisted, wretched creatures pulled her to her feet and stepped back, staring in awe at her. Three beings walked into her line of sight and stopped frozen, clearly amazed by what they saw. She glanced down at herself, and back at them. She didn’t see what was so fascinating about her body. Calmly, so they would stop staring, she reached over and tugged one of the bigger, less slimy ones jacket off. She then slipped into it, and gave the males a look. One of the Uruks shook himself out of his stupor and turned to awaken the others.  
“Do they always stare so?”  
He blinked at her.  
“I suppose so.” His voice was rough, guttural.  
She raised an eyebrow at him.  
“You’re staring again. Have you never seen a girl before?”  
He blinked again.   
“No.”   
She blinked for the first time.

She could remember her first talk with Saruman, as well. He’d told her many things, explained that she would belong too his second in command, his strongest, smartest warrior. She’d disliked his choosing for her even then, and it still made her angry. By what right did he own her? She used to be just some Elf he kidnapped. Now, she was Uruk-hai, but not his Uruk-Hai.

Her first partner was more interested in killing everything than he was in her. That meant he didn’t really bother her, except if Saruman told him to. Then, he was killed. Beheaded by a human. Personally, she was glad.

-The Two Towers-

The second was obsessed with his power. He wanted to control everything, including her. Then, the wizard found something she was useful for. It hurt her mind, leaving her weak and broken. Her second mate preferred her that way.  
She would not let him rule her.  
So, she ran.


	2. Chapter 2

She ran to Fangorn, swearing an oath to the trees.  
‘I will not kill. No fires will burn by my hand. Just let me hide here.”  
The trees creaked, and she ran deeper without stopping.  
She ran for two days. The only times she stopped were for water. As she ran, she tried very, very hard not to think at all. She didn’t know much about these trees. She knew the White Wizard hated them, and that was enough for her.  
She collapsed in a clearing, miles away from the Tower, falling to her knees. She didn’t know where she was, and she didn’t care to. She was safe from the ones who wanted to be her masters, and none other mattered.  
Roots erupted from the ground around her, wrapping around her wrists and ankles, holding her in place with live wood. They didn’t stop there, however. They continued winding up her, wrapping her in muddy roots up until they held her shoulders immovable. She realized for the first time that she was afraid. Also, there was a voice speaking in elvish.  
It was pleading.  
It was hers.  
She was begging for the first time in her new life.  
In a language that she barely understood.

A tendril snaked across her throat, and the pleading stopped.   
Clearly, it wasn’t effective.  
Then it tightened, squeezing her airways closed.  
She gasped in as much air as she could, since wooden roots restricted her ability to expand.  
They only twined tighter around her, forcing her to release the air, and be unable to pull in any more.  
The world sparked white, and darkened.

Her hearing was deadening quickly, but she heard a voice yelling in the background.  
The next thing she knew, the roots were pulling away, allowing her to fall foreward and gasp for breath. Her matted hair curtained the world, shielding her face from outsiders.  
She could breathe. The sparks were leaving her vision. She could hear again. She could think.

“Sleep. Your time is yet to come.” The voice was male, and elderly. She tensed. It sounded like Saruman. It had the same echoing power to it.   
In her peripheral vision roots sank back into the tumbled soil. A few stayed up, wavering uncertainly as though they weren’t sure if they should listen to the voice.  
“Are you alright?”  
She froze. He wasn’t talking to the trees now.  
“I’m not going to hurt you. Please, sit up.”  
She couldn’t move. She had run. Saruman would kill her.  
A remaining root laced through her hair, and pulled her into a sitting position, so she could see the man who stood in front of her, and he could see her back.  
He wore white, but his face was wrong.  
It was not hard and craggy, but softer and his eyes were gentler.  
Those same eyes widened when he saw what exactly the trees had caught.

“I’m fine.” She spoke in the same language he had, but it was slow. She thought most easily in the language of Mordor, now.  
He only nodded, and ordered the tree to release her.  
“You’re not fine. You’re starving, and exhausted.” He spoke to her.  
She didn’t reply, not sure what to say. She could deny it, but it was the truth.  
She nodded, because he seemed to be waiting for some input from her.  
Interesting. Saruman never waited for her opinions.

“Come with me.” The man in white said, before turning away and beginning to walk into the trees.  
He’d saved her. She followed.  
He fed her meat for the first time in days, and forced her to sleep for a few hours.   
She stayed.  
Finally, she asked him his name.  
She’d gotten more used to speaking in Common by now.  
“I’m the White Wizard.”  
The trees whispered among themselves at this, but she’d grown accustomed to it.  
The wizard turned, an interested expression crossing his face.  
“Do you want to meet some very curious folk?” he asked her simply, still looking away.  
She thought for a moment.  
“No.”  
“Then hide.”  
So, she did.

They were, indeed, very curious. They were small, little enough to be carried by the Ent easily. Curly hair topped them both, and she watched, interested, as they ran up to the White Wizard, laughing with glee.  
Her nose twitched.  
They smelled of Uruk-hai and blood.  
She was glad now that she was not meeting them. They had met the males.   
They would fear her.

The White Wizard explained to her later that they were called Hobbits, and that they were what the entire world depended on.  
She didn’t truly understand.  
She wouldn’t until much later.


	3. Chapter 3

The trees got used to her. Ents told her their stories.  
They called her their Creature, and would catch birds for her to eat.  
She stayed true to her promise.  
She lived without fire.

Then came the day that the trees passed on another whispering message.  
A Dwarf, a Man, and an Elf.  
The White Wizard went to speak with them, and she snuck after him.  
She wanted to see the elf.  
The trees told the incomers about the old man’s approach, and whispered into pointed ears that the Creature was there as well.   
She hid when the blonde, delicate face turned to look at her.  
She didn’t know his curious, alien features anymore, although she felt as if she had known that type of face before. According to Saruman, she’d looked like that at some point, as had the other Uruks.  
Strange.

 

The White Wizard…he comes to speak with Them…  
“The White Wizard approaches” Legolas nodded off to one side, where the trees whispered.  
“Do not let him speak.” Aragorn whispered, his eyes hard. “He will put a spell on us.”  
They all tensed, prepared to spring.  
A twig cracked.  
Legolas whirled, releasing an arrow. It was deflected easily, as was Gimli’s axe a moment later. Aragorn’s sword burned in his hand, preventing his attack.  
And then Gandalf was before them.   
They spoke, but the trees whispered to Legolas again.  
Our Creature goes to see the Elf… She is curious…  
Creature?

 

The White Wizard, Gandalf, left her after that.   
She remained in Fangorn, and befriended the youngest ents. They were fiery, as fiery as trees ever where. They loved small, simple jokes.  
But she dreamed of fire.  
Then came Entmoot.  
Then came the War.  
Her new friends brought her with them, into the maelstrom of fire and stone, the chaos of bloody war against her makers.   
She killed Orks that night.  
She killed Uruk-hai.

By the release of the river, she was beaten and bruised, covered in blood and ash. Her thick skin was split, and her eyes were wild with joy and madness. One arm, the left, hung broken, and she was bruised everywhere. The Ents took her back into the forest, and splinted the arm. They did not ask, in the morning, why she had laughed as she slept. They knew they did not want to know.


	4. Chapter 4

-Return of the King-

She stayed close to Isengard from then on, watching the curious Hobbits, and the goings on of the Ents. The trees still spoke of her, but she was no longer theirs. The day of death had changed her. She was pulled back into Middle Earth, no longer able to hide her heart in Fangorn.

The hobbits amused her. She tried to see the place that such creatures would have come from. Somewhere soft, with lots of food and drink. She decided that such a place would not suit her, with it’s soft, furry-footed hobbits everywhere. They reminded her of rabbits, all twitchy energy and loud laughter.  
Meriadoc and Peregrine, they were. They smoked and ate, and joked about their home, the Shire. And, she watched them, unsure of why she did so.  
When Gandalf returned, she was there. She watched as Saruman fell, and Grima Wormtongue made a final choice.  
Some of the dark coldness that made her dream of fire slipped out of her heart as the wizard of many colours fell to his death, but it didn’t all vanish. What stayed called her west, to the dark lands and glowing towers where the Nazgul flew.  
She watched in horror as Peregrine, the softer one, the innocent one, picked up the Palantir.  
She knew what it was.  
Saruman had shown her to glowing Eye using it.  
It had shown her the future.  
It had burned her mind.  
It was why she ran.  
She watched in horror as it caught the hobbit.

They rode for Rohan, for the golden hall of Meduseld.  
She followed. She needed to warn the White Wizard about it. She’d seen it capture others. She needed to save Pippin.

 

As they road out of Isengard, an Ent stopped Gandalf. It was younger than many of the others, and it seemed worried. Legolas listened, curious what a tree herder would be so worried about that he would come to the White Wizard.  
‘The creature has been acting strange. Her heart is no longer filled with fear. She fought for us, when Isengard fell.’  
Gandalf nodded once, slowly. He seemed preoccupied as they rode out, and Legolas saw him scan the forest with his eyes carefully as they rode past. He looked as well, and saw something dark move out of the way quickly.  
He kept his ears open and checked behind them often.  
Something was out there, running behind them, keeping pace with the horses.  
He tried to ask Gandalf what it was.  
“Fangorn’s Creature has left her trees.”  
That was all he would say.

 

She ran, healed from her time in Isengard, stronger from Fangorn’s challenges.  
She had no water. No food.  
Gandalf had to be warned.  
Pippin had to be saved.


	5. Chapter 5

Rohan was large, and mostly flat. Their horses ran almost too quickly. Almost.  
She kept far enough behind them, she thought.  
She ran to Edoras.  
Then, she hid.

They were in Meduseld, where she could not go. King Theoden’s nephew would kill her on sight, if the Man, Aragorn, did not get to her first. She needed Gandalf to go somewhere she could speak with him.  
Her clothing was tatters after the Forest.  
There was a scrap cloth pile outside a tailors on the main street. She, carefully, grabbed a pair of trews and a tunic. They were not too torn, compared to her older garments. She also stole something new, a large cloak with a deep hood. She could hide now.

 

Legolas watched their follower up until they rode into Edoras. He lost sight of them after that, but he kept his eyes open.  
They were out with Eomer a few days later, when he caught sight of the Someone again.  
It was wearing a long, green cloak.  
He knew it was the Someone because of the way they watched Gandalf. The hood turned, the gaze so intense Legolas could feel it. 

 

She watched them ride by, her eyes locked on Gandalf. He needed to know. She needed to warn him, but she couldn’t even get close.  
Not until later. That night. She snuck into their rooms, just in time to hear Pippin yell and fall to his knees, the glass orb in his hands.  
Gandalf was there in a moment, covering the thing, yelling in a voice like thunder.  
She hid in the shadows, her heart beating at a double pace. The hobbit wasn’t moving. He stared into space, and fought to breathe. She knew how it felt. The Eye burned when it looked into your mind.  
The White Wizard freed him from it’s spell, demanding to know what he’d seen.  
Plans, and plots from the darkest one himself.  
She was impressed.  
The hobbit was strong.

Things quieted down more after that. Morning was the time to discuss the nights events, they decided. Gandalf exited the sleeping room, and she followed when she felt she could. Nobody had known she was there. In all the excitement, the elf’s hawk-eye was directed elsewhere.  
The White Wizard waited outside, his staff clenched in his hands.  
She walked up behind him, and he whirled, the end of it burning perilously close to her face.  
“Who are you?” he whispered roughly.  
Wordlessly, she pulled back her hood, revealing her to his eyes.  
“Why are you here?”  
“It does not matter now,” She whispered. “The Palantir has gotten what it wanted.”  
He pulled away from her, his eyes still hard on hers.  
“How do you know about it?”  
Her mouth twisted, sourly.  
“Saruman was always proud of his toys, and he wanted the Eye to know what he’d made.”  
Gandalf nodded, once, and backed away further.

“You were going to warn me.” It was not a question.  
“Yes.” She answered it anyway.  
“I’ll need to protect him.”  
“Yes.”

He turned to her, and some of the kindness came back into his eyes.  
“Sleep here tonight. I’ll make sure you are up in time to vanish before dawn.”  
She bowed a little, something she’d seen the Rohan do to people they respected.  
He almost smiled. 

 

When Legolas awoke the next morning he smelled something very strange. It almost smelled like an Uruk-Hai, but it was muted, hidden under the scent of a forest and the smell of horses. He told Gandalf about it, but the wizard was not concerned.


	6. Chapter 6

She watched as the White Wizard and Pippin rode out of Edoras. She wished that she could go with them, to guard the soft Hobbit, but Men would not understand what she was any more than Pippin himself would.   
He’d been kidnapped by her brethren.   
He would fear her.

She saw the torches lit, and heard the call to war. She watched Meriadoc, the clever one, swear service to king Theoden, and knew that she must follow the army to war. She’d come here to guard two hobbits. She had not failed, not as long as she kept a weather eye on Merry. 

The horses ran, and she did, a half day after them. Whenever the Men camped for the night, she snuck in, stealing a little food and water. Gradually, she learned more and more about Merry, and his new friend lady Eowyn. She watched Eowyn like a hawk, trying to understand what graces she had lost.  
She was fascinated by the manners, the dresses, the elegance, even here.  
But most of all, she was interested in the needlepoint.  
Eowyn did not have much, but she worked on it every night before sleep, a beautiful panel explaining Rohan’s part in the current story. She was enthralled by the tiny, delicate stitches.  
One evening, when Eowyn was called away she snuck in, and tried it. Her stitches were not so fine as the lady’s. She wrote a short note of apology and left it beside the embroidery, signing it ‘C.’ 

 

Eowyn stared when she returned to her tent. Her stitching had been worked on while she was away, the new stitched standing out because they were very amateur. Beside the fabric was a small strip of paper bearing the words.  
“Forgive me for ruining it  
C.”


	7. Chapter 7

There was something glorious about the battlefield.   
Something manic, and proud, and mad.   
She lost herself in a wash of blood.  
And Death.

A call split the air, sending shivers down her spine.  
She turned, to see huge…things… march onto the battle field.  
Later, she would be ashamed that her only thought was,  
“Can I kill it?”

Then there were Orcs, and more Orcs, and more blood.  
Time lost meaning. She killed forever, and for just a heartbeat.  
She was whirling, dancing death.  
Let all those who would dare to challenge her die on her blade.

There was a shrieking, rending sound, and the field filled with green, rotted soldiers.  
Her enemies were cut down.  
It was over.  
There was suddenly pain.  
Everywhere.  
The world tilted up, and drowned in blood.

 

The army of the dead left her intact, sparing her their blades.  
They saw the dead around her.  
They tasted the rage in the air.  
They heard the Tree’s echoes.  
They felt her power.  
They smelled the Bloodlust.  
They knew she had a larger part to play.


	8. Chapter 8

Legolas hated this part of the battle.  
Once the fighting was over, and you awoke to the horror of what had just happened.   
Once you had to return to the bloodstained field to search for friends, alive or dead, and exterminate every last one of your enemies.  
Once you found yourself staring, numb, at the sheer massive Death on the field.  
His slender sword stabbed down into thick skin, just to ensure that this particular monstrosity would never walk again. There was a little ripple of action off to one side, and Legolas turned to see what it was.  
A pile of dead Orks lay, hacked to pieces. At it’s center, the body of what looked like an Uruk lay, collapsed and bleeding. There was something wrong about that body, however, and he scaled the pile to see more closely.  
The Uruk-Hai was slenderer than most, with less sheer muscle, although it was still powerfully overgrown compared to the Elves. There was no White Hand painted on it’s clothing or armour, as a matter of fact it appeared to be dressed in the clothes of Rohan.   
Legolas stepped forward, raising his sword to the Uruk’s throat, when it’s eyes opened. They were unfocused, the product of a concussion, and vividly green.  
Legolas was hit by the powerful scent of green, growing things. The smell of Fangorn.  
His sword faltered at the Uruk’s throat.  
“Do it.” It’s voice was not rough or harsh. Not the painful grating of the other’s voices. It’s voice was a clear Alto, smooth and rich.  
And it spoke in Elvish.

 

She did not understand.  
The Elf had his sword to her throat, the scent of Uruk and Ork blood on his flesh, and yet he did not drive his blade home. Instead, as she slipped back out of consciousness, he lifted her up to support her and drag her through the bloody ruin of the field.   
Everything blurred together after that.  
There was the Dwarf with an axe who almost had her dead before the Elf could stop him.  
There was the Man, who stared in horror at her, but listened as the Elf explained.  
Merry was carried in by a regally dressed Pipin, both of them looking half-broken.  
And then the White Wizard was there. Someone dressed her wounds and gave her water, as his voice thundered away, a senseless pressure on her ears. Colours blurred together, blood and sapphire, marble and leather. She didn’t think she spoke, but when a liquid was poured down her throat to make her sleep, another set of sounds vanished.  
Slowly, she drifted off into the place filled with Fire.   
There were angry embers, now, and the rock itself turning to flame, but the maelstrom was gone.  
When she awoke at midnight, there were tears on her cheeks, and her mouth hurt from smiling.  
The White Wizard merely fetched some more of the draught, sending her back to dreams.

 

Gandalf explained to them all who he believed the Uruk was. He told of meeting her in Fangorn and nursing her to health. He told of her promise to live without fire.  
Merry and Pipin added in that Quickbeam and Treebeard had mentioned a Creature once.  
Legolas explained how he’d known they were being followed, and smelled her scent in the room after Pipin looked into the Palantir.  
Eomer remembered seeing a cloaked soldier sneaking food, and told them about Eowyn’s embroidery, signed “C.”  
Legolas was glad, now, that he hadn’t left her for dead.  
Fangorn’s Creature had proven herself.


	9. Chapter 9

She awoke. She awoke in a room filled with light, and pain.  
Around her, the allies of Men that they had been able to salvage from the battlefield.  
Cots filled the room, rustling with the intermittent fits of their occupants.  
She was well, or well enough.   
Cautiously, she pulled herself from the cotton sheets, before re-folding them.  
A man dressed in white entered, and began to tend to one of the invalids.

“Sir.” He turned with a start, and stared with surprise up.  
“You’re up? How are you feeling?” She blinked a little at the look of concern. He appeared to be worried about her welfare, not his own.  
“Fine. Can I… can I help with anything?” He blinked slowly, registering her words, before shaking his head.  
“Gandalf the White wanted to know when you awoke. Perhaps if you go find him.”   
She nodded and turned away, but some half-buried instinct turned her back.  
‘Thank you.” She nodded once, and left the room  
She didn’t see the healer’s look of surprised gratification.

The Gondorian palace was impossible. It twisted and turned for no reason, winding impossibly onward. It didn’t help that she was being careful to avoid common passages. She knew her face would not lead these people to trust her.  
Finally, she’d found a hallway, half lit, which seemed to lead towards the activity.   
She was about half way down, when she heard footsteps behind her.  
She considered running, but she did not know where to go.  
“Well, well, well.” A voice. Male. Human. Gondorian. Drunk. “If it isn’t the turncoat.”  
Ugly laughter from three other voices.   
She turned, glaring at them. Guardsmen, all.  
“My, but she is pretty, aint she?” he said, and wicked grins spread across their faces.  
“Whatdya say we show her a little ‘Hospitality’, boys?” another spoke.  
Her hands curled into fists.  
One of them stepped foreward.  
She sifted her weight a little.  
He smirked and grabbed for her.

 

Aragorn turned the corner in time to see one of the drunken fools try to grab the Creature.   
She lashed out, one hand grabbing him by the throat, and pushed him down to the floor.  
His friends stepped forward, looks of stupid surprise and then anger on their faces.  
One drew his sword.  
Aragorn saw her muscles bunch, and knew that in seconds the guard would be dead.  
“I would not do that, if I were you.” He slid in, between both fighting parties.  
“She is our ally, but that does not mean she will appreciate unwanted attentions.”  
The guard stared at him, eyes wide, before realizing who Aragorn was.  
“Yes, sir.” He muttered out, before turning tail and running off, down the hall.  
His friends followed, dragging the stunned guardsman with them.  
Aragorn turned to her.  
“Are you alright?” he asked, offering her a hand.  
She stood, not even noticing the proffered help.  
“Fine. Thank you.” He blinked at her.  
“You didn’t really need my help.” She met his eyes.  
“No, you saved their lives.” Aragorn’s eyes widened, realizing that if he hadn’t interfered the attackers would be found dead, and she would be long gone.  
He nodded.  
“Gandalf will want to know you are up.” She looked up the hall, a frown on her face.  
“Can you lead me to him?”   
“Yes.”  
They turned and headed up the hall.


	10. Chapter 10

Gandalf was discussing the next course of action when they arrived.  
Aragorn strode in, attracting attention, saying his part.  
She stayed to the outside edge, finding what shadows she could to hide in.  
For the first time, she missed the safety of Fangorn’s trees.  
The White Wizard nodded to her, and she bowed a little back.  
Others kept arriving, with news of those who had survived, and those who hadn’t.  
Eomer brought word of Eowyn’s recovery, and Theoden’s death.  
Legolas, the Elf, had been checking supplies.  
Gimli had been trying to talk to the Orcs they’d taken captive.  
Gandalf had been scrying ‘for them.’  
Pippin came, briefly, to give an update on Merry’s condition. Improving.  
She watched, silent, through all this.

The Orc prisoners were a problem. No matter what they did, the servants of Sauron would not betray him. They did not speak, simply stared at the questioners.  
“I will talk to them. I may be able to help.” She spoke quietly, but somehow they all heard and turned to stare at her. There was something measuring about the White Wizard’s gaze, and when he made up his mind, little lines of sadness appeared.  
“Yes, I think you will.” Eomer volunteered to lead her there.

She studied him out of the corner of her eye as they walked.   
The proud, honorable nephew of King Theoden.   
She had feared him while hiding in Rohan.   
She knew that this gesture of acceptance was only so he could keep an eye on her.   
She walked carefully, certain that he would turn at any point and run her through.  
But he did not.  
They reached the dungeons, and she gazed about her with little pity.  
This was nothing less than the motherless fools deserved.  
“Thrak ash ambal kurv fark nalt butharog?”(Brought a pretty toy for us to play with) one of them jeered loudly, setting them all off into obnoxious laughter.  
“Nar, lat migul rramab ta.”(No, you might break him) She replied, Black Speech stinging her throat, like the feeling of rising bile.  
They were surprised, and most fell silent. One, however, kept laughing. She walked to him, and stood beside his cell.  
“Now, none of your tricks, Female.” He said, calming down. He spoke Common.  
“My tricks?” she allowed one, just one eyebrow to rise.  
“I was at Isengard, and again on this field in Gondor. I’ve survived you twice.”  
“Talk to me, and I’ll let you do it a third time.” She knew her voice was cold, but there was something about this Orc that made her want to deal with him.  
“Answer my riddle.” He gave her a little smirk.  
“What is your riddle?” Other Orcs were coming forward, staring at her in fascination, like the day of her second birth.  
“My thunder comes before the lightning;  
my lightning comes before the clouds;  
my rain dries all the land that it touches.  
What am I?”  
There was a flash from just behind her eyes, and she Saw the palantir before her.  
The eye, malicious, burning, and behind. Just behind.  
“Mal Duump.” It was barely a whisper, but the other Orcs pulled back, faces surprised. He simply smiled and nodded.  
“Now, then. What do you want to know?”

 

Eomer had not been sure of this, placing a traitor in with her old people.  
The instant the door opened, he heard the catcalls and laughter of the Orcs.  
They were talking to her.  
She replied, saying something that made most of them stop, and stare in shock.  
One didn’t.  
She went to this one, and they spoke.   
Eomer looked at the others, and noticed something strange.  
They looked… awed. Impressed, and respectful.  
As though amazed by her existence.  
She got the Orc to speak, and they returned to the shining halls of Gondor.  
As they walked, Eomer studied her.  
She was frowning slightly, as though trying to remember something, or trying to forget.  
“When we first walked in there… what were they saying?” he asked, curious.  
She smiled a little, and shook her head.  
“You would not be flattered if I told you, warrior of Rohan.”


	11. Chapter 11

She told them her information, estimates of troops and plans.  
“Thank you, C.” Gandalf said simply, pointedly not noticing that all the blood drained out of her face at his knowledge of the embroidery.  
She was slipping back out the door, when Legolas grabbed her arm.  
“Where are you going?” he asked, and she paused for a second or two, to figure it out.  
“Back to the sick rooms. I want to check on the hobbits.” He nodded, and slipped out the door with her.  
“Aragorn told us what happened earlier. If I’m with you, people wont… um…”  
“Worry?” She offered, and he smiled a little.  
With that, they headed off, Legolas showing her a better way there.

Merry was pale, sick with blood loss and fatigue, his arm held carefully at his side.   
Pippin looked little better, for all that he wasn’t bedridden.  
Legolas dropped her off and left, claiming he had some other task.  
She was grateful. He was an unpleasant reminder of the things she’d lost.  
She stood by the door, suddenly unsure of herself.  
They had met the males. They would fear her.  
She did not want them to.  
“You can sit down, if you want.” Merry   
She twitched a little and sat, uncomfortable with the lack of shadow. She was used to seeing them, not to them seeing her.  
“I understand you were trying to help us?” He asked, looking at her, curious, but not really hostile.  
‘I- yes. Ever since the Palantir.” Pippin flinched, reminded of the pain.  
“Liar.” Merry pulled himself up further, to meet her eyes.   
She stared at him, not understanding.  
“We saw you during the battle, at Barad’dur. Remember, Pip, I pointed her out to you?”  
Pippin blinked.  
“That was you?” She shrugged, honestly not remembering.   
“Yeah, it was. You saved Quickbeam. I remember.” She vaguely remembered lunging at an Uruk with an axe about to kill her friend.  
They sat there for a second, awkwardly silent.  
“So, how did you know about the Palantir?” Pippin asked, curious.  
“Everyone sees different things. To your eyes, it showed the Eye. To mine, it revealed futures. Burning, horrible, desolate futures. To Saruman, it showed power and control such as he had always craved.” Her voice trailed off, remembering the way the thing sang to her, catching her eyes before tormenting her, flesh and soul.  
“You wanted to protect me from it?” It wasn’t a question, not really, so she didn’t reply.  
A second or two of silence hung in the air, before Merry came up with another question.  
“So, you were in Fangorn that whole time?” he sounded incredulous.  
“It’s a big forest, lots of trees to hide in.”  
“Why didn’t you let us know you were there?” Pippin was curious, soft eyes on her face.  
“When first I saw you, I could smell the Orc and Uruk-hai on you. I didn’t want to frighten you further.” Her voice was soft, barely a whisper.  
Why was it so much more difficult to face these two than to mow down all challengers on a field of battle? She realized why, and gathered her courage.  
“I owe you both an apology.” She felt the two sets of hobbit-eyes train on her. “I was not fast enough to save either of you, despite my plans.”

 

When Legolas returned for her, the tree of them were sharing storied of Fangorn. He listened with surprise as they commiserated on the terror that was being swallowed by a live tree, and smiled when she made the two hobbits laugh.  
It was good, Legolas thought, to hear their laughter again.

 

She spent the rest of the day at their sides, learning much about them, and sharing little of herself. She still expected them to be afraid.  
Gandalf visited her that evening, and told her Aragorn’s all or nothing plan, although he would not tell her precisely why it was necessary. When he finally hesitated, lapsing into silence, she glanced up at him, dark eyes stubborn.  
“If you would have me stay behind, you will have to chain me like a warg.” She knew from his look of relief that she had answered the question hadn’t asked.  
“We ride for the gates tomorrow.”  
She paused for a second.  
“Do not waste a horse on me. I will run, and not fall behind.”   
The White Wizard nodded, before leaving her new rooms.


	12. Chapter 12

She ran at the horses side with ease, mind bent on the battle ahead. It would be bloody, she knew, it needed to be. ‘A distraction.’ That was what Gandalf had wished for, last night. She felt the heavy weight on her back as she ran, and knew with a certainty that she could provide a most ample distraction.  
The others rode forward, and as the gates sat silent, she slipped a Palantir out of her pack, dropped to the ground, and glanced into it’s depths. She felt Eye turn to look at her, felt it’s hard gaze burning on her back, Saw with rending clarity the deaths of everyone around her, the utter destruction of their army, the fall of the world of men, and the ruin of the shire. She pulled herself away from the nightmares, and met the Eye, and saw it widen with shock as she raised her sword above her head, and smashed it pommel first into the stone.

The Palantir did not shatter, but as the massive gates began to move, one long, graceful fracture wound it’s way down the center, marring the Eye’s sight.  
By now, it had seen Aragorn, and Sauron’s attention was caught.  
She stood, reassuring the man beside her with a glance.  
Then, as the Mouth rode out, she kicked the two halves of the Palantir apart.  
She was done with Sauron’s futures.

 

Death.  
Everywhere.  
Blood.  
Screams.  
Orc flesh under a crimson blade.  
Monstrosities screaming around her.  
Hot pain from her back.  
Fear in twisted eyes.  
Fight forwards.  
Not to either side.  
Never run.  
Leave only the dead.

Cries from above.  
Wings, feathers.  
No matter.

Building pressure.  
Something wrong.  
Screaming.  
Tower.  
Shatter.  
Explosion.  
Embers dying.  
Darkness fades.  
Enemies running.  
Battle over, battle won.

 

Aragorn shook her shoulder, gently. She hadn’t moved since battle ended, she’d just stood there on the very edge of the precipice silently, staring at the empty space of sky.   
Finally, she shook herself out of it, and turned to look at him curiously. The stony guardedness she’d worn around all of them since awakening was all but gone, leaving behind a sort of numbness behind her eyes.  
“The fires have gone out.” Aragorn had no idea what she was talking about, so he just nodded a little, and steered her back towards the others.


	13. Chapter 13

In the following days, she pieced together all that she had missed. Two other hobbits had been sent to destroy the Ring, Sauron’s power and life, in the fires of Mal Duump. They would have failed but for some sort of twisted creature, who died along with the gold band’s destruction.   
She was shown, rather ignobly, to the two new hobbits by Merry and Pippin, who decided to demonstrate that she was harmless by leaping onto her back when she was least expecting it.   
They soon regretted that idea, as she held them in the air by their collars until she ceased to feel threatened. After that disaster, they decided to introduce Frodo and Sam at some later date, when she was further from possible weapons.

 

It was Frodo who went up to her and introduced himself that night, as she sat cross-legged, watching the men’s celebrations. She knew it was him, because she could smell the darkness in him, the same way she felt it under her own skin.  
He was quiet, fragile. She guessed he was keeping her company because she was not boisterously drunk. Faramir came and took Frodo away after a time, however, leaving her alone in her quiet isolation.  
Gandalf came to comment to her about the mysterious breaking of Saruman’s old Palantir, which had seemingly split in half when Sauron fell. She nodded and looked interested, not at all guilty. He didn’t push the issue, but his eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief. He left her, and she waited for a second or two before turning and blinking at the short, round little hobbit who had snuck up behind her. 

“Who are you, shireling?” She tried to keep her voice soft, for the hobbit was hiding in her shadows, and she knew he would not be able to see her backlit face.  
“Samwise Gamgee, miss.” He had courage, she thought, and she doubted he realized it.  
“You smell of Mordor.” She noted his little wince, and moved to the side so he could slip past her back into the light. He stared as he did so, and she hid her sudden temptation to hide away where their curious, pitying eyes could never find her.  
“I’m just a gardener, miss.” He dragged his eyes from her orcish face, to study his boots.  
She snorted, laughing on the inside.  
Merry and Pippin appeared out of nowhere, each of them grabbing one of the gardener’s arms and dragging him off, singing some song about a dragon.

 

Gondor had nice roofs, she decided. Inside, the palace was squirrely and confusing as a rabbit’s warren, but outside, up in the night air, it was clean, open and simple.   
She wasn’t sure if they would be worried about her or not, but she’d heard the guards passing on word of the uruk-girl walking to rooftops. She supposed she should be grateful that they’d passed on the word, so none of them were panicking and attacking.

“You’re worrying the hobbits.” She hid her wince at the smooth elf-voice from behind her. Legolas, of the woodland realm, was playing babysitter.  
“Well, then you’re worrying the Dwarf and the Man.” He didn’t bother to ask which man.  
“Maybe. Why are you up here, anyway?” She smirked out at the open space. She still hadn’t turned to look at the Elf, half hoping he would leave.  
“It’s clear, here, open. ‘Sides, I didn’t want any of the men trying to out-drink each other on this.” She hefted her mug a little, and the too-dark liquid sloshed.  
“What is it?” She turned and saw him looking curiously at the small barrel she’d brought up with her. She knew he could smell the sweetness from it.   
“The wild-men of Rohan called it Absinthe.”   
“It is… Alcohol?” She nodded, and noted his interested expression.  
“I tried beer in Meduseld. It was strange, and weak.” My, what an adventurous Elf, she thought. She swallowed her giggle hard, making a sort of choking sound instead, and he looked at her with worry.  
“This is stronger. Sweeter, too.”

 

Aragorn stared. When the Creature finally helped Legolas down from the rooftops, the fair elf was staggering a little, singing something under his breath.  
“Dwarf!” She shouted, her voice rougher than he normally heard it, “You need to teach your friend here some decent drinking songs!” Gimli turned and laughed in inebriated delight to see Legolas (finally, actually) drunk. He stomped over and relieved her of her burden, dragging the elf off to where Eomer and his friends stood laughing.

“How did you manage to get an elf drunk?” Aragorn asked, still a little stunned.  
She cast him a sly smirk and placed a small, empty keg on the bench beside him.  
“Absinthe.” He blinked at it in surprise.  
“That…is very, very powerful stuff, then.” He said, thinking over the last time he’d seen an elf drink. By the time the humans were passing out, the elf felt a tingle.  
“Yes.” She glanced at the rowdy group the dwarf had collected, “I’m afraid I did the Elf no favours.” She blinked slightly, and Aragorn realized she was swaying a little.   
“However, I did drink most of it. I think I’m going to bed now.” Aragorn paused to contemplate what she’d told him. The stuff was powerful enough to knock over an Elf, she had drunk most of the container, and she hadn’t been slurring her words. She turned away from him and paused, frowning at the wall.

“On second thought, this place is a rabbit’s nest. If I try to find my way I will get horribly lost.” She turned back. “Will you help me?” Aragorn considered briefly, before nodding. He made a mental note, thinking that was the first time she’d ever asked for help.

 

Everything was soft around the edges. She was floating, mostly, and something told her that when she crashed she would crash hard. She tried not to think of that, focusing instead on her conversation with Aragorn. Then she stopped thinking hard about it, because she didn’t really remember how to speak elvish with her orc-brain, which was what was drunk at the moment, and that was the language the conversation was being spoken in. She almost wondered what they were talking about, but then decided it didn’t really matter. Aragorn already held her life in his hands, he was just now getting a better image of the sort of being living that life. The absinthe told her to ignore it, and she found it very difficult to argue with. 

They’d found her room evidently, for he was opening a door, and it looked like her room on the inside, except for the fuzziness. She turned, thanking him politely, and began removing her armor. When she started to lift off her overshirt, she heard him clear his throat and leave quickly. She chuckled a bit into the darkness, and went to sleep.


	14. Chapter 14

Legolas was hung over for all of an hour the next morning. Gimli spend half the day moping around and glaring at his friend, as though that would make the elf buckle over with a racking headache. She carefully avoided the men’s questions about the liquor she’d found, saying only she knew of it from before she’d come to Gondor. Since they couldn’t find any more to try for themselves, they had to accept and move on. She extracted herself from them, and made her way carefully to the Elf’s side.

“I should have warned you.” He glanced at her with surprise. “I also should not have given you to the dwarf after I’d gotten you drunk.” He smiled lightly to her.  
“It’s alright. My curiosity wanted to know what it was like, and now I do.” He blinked as he realized something. He’d felt awful when he awoke, but she’d arrived showing no ill effects. None at all. She must have seen his thoughts on his face for her mouth twisted.  
“There was evil in that drink. To a true elf, it made your head ache like fury, made you feel weak. To me, it’s like a call to arms, a call to fight. When I woke this morning, I was far more feral than I am now, I promise you. I nearly bit someone. Anyway, to a man, to a dwarf, it would be as addicting as the Ring’s seductive power. I honestly do not know if it would affect a Hobbit.”   
With that rather impressive speech out of the way, she slipped back into her shadows and moved off to find Mithrandir. She needed to inform him that the orc-brew had been taken care of.


	15. Chapter 15

Rosie knew that Sam was up at Bag End, visiting with someone. She knew that this was one of those things from his adventures that he needed to do, like his weekly nights at the Green Dragon with the others. Every time an acquaintance passed through, Sam would make time to visit with them.  
Rosie had asked, once or twice, if he could tell her about it, but he’d always gather her into his arms and say ‘what’s done is done.’ But it wasn’t. Not really. He’d wake up from nightmares, or wake sobbing. Rosie loved him, and knew he loved her, but she wished with all her heart that he’d let her know the darkness he’d seen.  
It was with these thoughts in mind that she packed up an ample picnic lunch and started on her way up the hill

. She arrived, knocked, and Peregrine Took answered the door.  
“Rosie! What are you doing here?” Delight and concern warred for supremacy.  
“I’ve brought tea.” She said firmly, stepping across the hearth.  
“Rosie?” Sam stuck his head out one of the rooms and stared at her in shock.  
“Samwise, my husband. I’m getting sick of all this secrecy and dancing about. In light of this, I’ve brought things for tea, during which you boys,” she gave Pippin the evil eye, too, “Will introduce me to your guest and explain how he fits into the story of your adventures you’ve never told me.” That declared, Rosie let out her breath in a huff and glared at her darling husband.  
There was a rich, alto laugh from behind her, and Rosie turned to stare up at the tall, dark cloaked figure standing there.  
“I knew you were brave, gardener. I did not realize all shirelings were.” The voice was somehow feminine, and Rosie found herself staring into the dark recesses of the hood, trying to make out some facial features.  
“Cee, this is my wife, Rosie.” Sam sounded resigned. “Rosie, this is Cee.”

 

The Creature studied Rosie almost as hard as the hobbit woman tried to study her back. They exchanged pleasantries as the tea things Rosie had brought were set out, and by the time they were done she had decided to like Rosie. She seemed practical, clever, and most of all, determined. She appeared to have decided not to leave Frodo’s home until she had heard the entire story from beginning to end.

She was also a good audience, gasping with shock when the boys described the Nasgul, sighing at the vision she got of Lothlorien. She was almost cheering when they described the final destruction of the Ring, and she literally dragged Sam across the table to kiss him when Frodo told of how, in those desperate moments, Sam was remembering her. Once it was all over, Rosie turned to Cee, her expression curious. She was still hiding in her large, dark cloak.  
“Forgive me for asking so boldly, but how do you fit into the story, Cee?” 

She felt her face stretch into a moderately wicked smile, and it only took a flick of her eyes to Merry and Pippin to know that her bad idea was a good one. Mute, she reached up and pulled off her hood, exposing her dark mottled skin and rougher hewn features to the pretty hobbit’s eyes.  
“I am Uruk-Hai.” There was a second of panicked silence before the boys burst out laughing, and she followed shortly after.

“They call me Cee, short for the Creature, a name I was given by the trees of Fangorn Forest. But, I should explain fully, from the beginning.” She paused for a moment, to collect her thoughts, and noticed all the hobbits leaning forward, hooked.  
“It was Grima Wormtounge who started it, I’ve decided. He’d seen the Uruk-Hai and heard Saruman’s plans for a new race of Perfect Orcs…”

 

Rosie watched as she spoke, and slowly she began to see it. When she looked straight into Cee’s eyes, they were a dark black-brown, but from an angle, when she glanced to the side, there was a verdant green highlight there. When she frowned, when she snarled, all you could see of her was the Uruk, but when Cee smiled something lifted in her face, and she seemed more graceful, more elven. When she focused, her gestures were harsh, rough and fast, but when she moved on instinct they were smooth and delicate. She was no elf, that much was clear, but she was not wholly a monster either.


	16. Chapter 16

She rode with them. She rode to the ports, and watched their final farewells. She knew Mithrandir’s mind, knew that this was not truly the last ship to the grey havens, and so she stayed behind. She smiled, and almost found the courage to look Galadriel in the eyes. Almost. The Elvin Queen didn’t force her.  
She slipped away before Frodo admitted his plans.  
She was with the ponies, preparing to ride off, back to Fangorn perhaps, when Merry and Pippin found her again.  
“Are you leaving too?” She glanced at them.  
“I’m not on the boat, am I?” Pippin looked hopeful, Merry looked mulish.  
“That still doesn’t mean you won’t ride away and vanish forever.” She paused, and then gave them both a look.  
“I can’t stay in the Shire eternally, either. You people would drive me mad.” She gave them a small smile, and they tried to muster up ones in return.  
“Visit, then?” Pippin’s voice was soft, hesitant.   
She paused, thinking, before turning.  
“I will, as often as I can.”

 

She lived on Weathertop for a time. She wandered the hills and the Barrow-downs.   
Myths sprang up, of a cloaked woman who walked in the mists near Bree.  
They said, if a traveler shared his fire with her, he would go on with the blessings of the trees upon his head, and no danger would befall him.  
These stories reached across Middle Earth, spreading into the halls of Gondor and Rohan with the merchants. When Aragorn and Arwen heard the tales, they shared a look of private amusement. When Eomer heard, he laughed straight for a minute. He’d always believed C would end up in legends.

 

Years passed.  
Finally, as the lives of the Hobbits wound down, she returned to the Shire for the last time. As she walked in, hobbit children ran out, laughing with delight when she lifted them with ease. Cee had never expected to hear screams of joy at her passing.  
Meriadoc and Peregrine were still irrepressible rascals, for all their age, and her heart broke to be parting with them. They would not, however, let her stay behind.  
She rode with Samwise, helping the old gardener into the Elf-ship, and the last of the ring-bearers left middle earth behind.  
As they sailed for the Grey Havens, she heard the trees of Fangorn singing in her ears.  
She was no longer Fangorn’s Creature.  
She was no longer Middle Earth’s.  
For the first time in her long life as an Uruk-Hai, she remembered before the fire and the pain, before the darkness. She remembered her name.  
Anvanya.

It meant Beautiful Heart.


End file.
